His Amish Sweetheart (17 page)

A half hour later, they were sitting in Nathaniel's living room. Miss Lambert got out her computer and put it on a chair she'd drawn near where she sat.

“Do you mind?” she asked as she opened her laptop. “I'd like to take notes while we're talking. It'll make it easier for me later to transfer the information to the department's forms.”

“Of course not,” Nathaniel replied. What else could he say? He hated everything about this situation where each word he spoke could be the wrong one.
Lord, be with us today and guide our words and actions so Miss Lambert sees Jacob belongs here with this community. Here with me!
The last came directly from his heart.

“Let me say again how much I appreciate you being willing to let me come and visit like this, Mr. Zook.”

“Please call me Nathaniel.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, and I think it'll be simpler if you call me Chloe.”

“
Danki.
I mean, thank you.”

She smiled, obviously trying to put them at ease. “I understand enough of the language of the plain folk to know what
danki
means. I've worked with other plain families, which is why I was assigned as Jacob's social worker. If you say something I don't understand, I'll ask you to explain. Please do the same if I say something you don't understand.”

Nathaniel nodded and watched Esther do the same. Jacob was hunched on his chair, trying to make himself as small as possible. Did he have any idea why the social worker was there? Probably not. It was more likely he wanted to return to the alpacas.

Chloe looked at Esther. “I understand you are Jacob's teacher.”

“I am.”

She typed a few keys on her computer, then said, “I know it'll be an imposition, but I'll need to see Jacob at school. I can't let you know before I arrive.” She gave Esther a wry smile. “We're supposed to drop in so we see what's really going on. I hope that won't be a problem.”

“The scholars—our students are accustomed to having parents come to the school to help. You're welcome to come anytime you need to, but I must ask you not to talk to the
kinder
without their parents' permission.”

“That is fair. Will you arrange for me to obtain the permission if I need it?”

“It will be for the best if our bishop does.”

“That's Reuben Lapp, right?”

“Ja.”

Chloe smiled as she continued typing. “I've already spoken with Bishop Lapp. He expressed his concerns about the situation, and I told him—as I'm telling you—those concerns will be taken into consideration before any decision will be made.”

“Gut.”
Relief was evident in Esther's voice.

When she looked at him, Nathaniel gave her what he hoped she'd see as a bolstering smile. The situation between them might be tenuous now, but she was his greatest ally...as she'd always been. It wasn't a
kind
's game they were caught up in now, but he knew he could trust she'd be there for him and for Jacob. Her heart was steadfast, and in spite of her trepidation now, he knew she had the courage of the Old Testament woman whose name she shared. That Esther had done all she could to save her people, and Esther Stoltzfus would do no less for an orphaned boy.

His attention was pulled back to the social worker when Chloe said, “Now, Nathaniel, I've got a few questions for you.”

* * *

When she saw Nathaniel's shoulders stiffen, Esther wanted to put her hand out to him as she had in the schoolroom on the day they'd told Jacob of his
onkel
's passing. She wasn't sure how Chloe would react, so she clasped her fingers together on her lap.

She listened to questions about Jacob's schedule, what he ate, and where he slept. The boy began to squirm with boredom, and she asked if he could be excused. Her respect for the
Englisch
woman rose when Chloe gave him a warm smile and told him to enjoy his time with the alpacas, but not to spend so much time with them he didn't get his homework done.

“I don't give the
kinder
homework,” Esther said when Jacob regarded the social worker with bafflement. “They've got chores, so the scholars complete their work at school. Besides, they need some time to play and be
kinder
.”

Chloe's smile broadened as Jacob made his escape. “I wish more people felt that way. Children need to be children, but too many find themselves in situations where that's impossible.” She looked at Nathaniel. “Just a few more questions. I know this must seem like the whole world poking its nose into your business, but we must be certain being here is the best place for Jacob.”

“It is.” Not a hint of doubt was in his voice or on his face.

“I hope you're right.” Glancing at the screen, she asked, “Do you have family in the area, Nathaniel?”

“Not any longer. This farm belonged to my grandparents, and when they died, it became mine.”

“So your parents are deceased, too?”

“No. They're in Indiana with my four sisters and younger brother. Two of my sisters are married, and I have several nephews and nieces. They live near my parents.”

“So there's nobody here to help you with Jacob?”

“Our community is here to help if we need it.” His smile was so tight it looked painful. “So far, we haven't. Jacob and I have gotten along well.”

As she'd promised, the social worker had only a few more questions. Esther listened as Nathaniel answered thoughtfully and without hesitation or evasion. When Chloe asked to see the boy's room, Esther didn't follow them upstairs. She remained in the living room, listening to the hiss of the propane lamp and staring at the computer. If she peeked at the screen, would she be able to see what Chloe had written?

She couldn't do that. If the social worker found her snooping, it might be a mark against Nathaniel. What did Chloe think about Jacob's situation? Would she recommend he stay with Nathaniel?

The social worker and Nathaniel returned to the lower floor. They spoke easily before Nathaniel said he'd go and get Jacob to have a few words with the social worker.

As he went outside, Chloe closed her computer and put it in her bag. “Thank you for taking time to speak with me.” She straightened. “I appreciate you being forthcoming. Some people aren't, but you and your husband—”

“Nathaniel isn't my husband.”

The social worker stared at her, astonished. “I'm sorry. When I saw you together, I assumed you were married. I know I shouldn't assume anything about anyone, but you two seem like a perfectly matched set...” She turned away, embarrassed.

“Would it make a difference in your recommendation for where Jacob will live?” Esther asked before she could halt herself.

“What?” Chloe faced her.

“If Nathaniel and I were married?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I can't give you a definite answer. Without any blood relationship between either of you and the boy, it's far more complicated.”

“Jacob having a
mamm
and a
daed
...” She halted and amended, “Having a mother and a father would make a difference, wouldn't it?”

“It could.” The social worker put the bag's strap over her shoulder. “Don't worry that my mistake will have any impact on this case, Esther. I can see both of you care deeply about the boy. However, sometimes the best thing for a child isn't what the adults around him want. We have to think first and foremost of what will give him the stable home he's never had. We prefer that to be with two parents.”

Esther felt her insides turn to ice. She couldn't doubt Chloe's earnestness, but were her words a warning the state would take Jacob away? Somehow she managed to choke out a goodbye as the social worker left to speak to Jacob once more.

Groping for a chair, she sat and stared at the spot where Jacob had been curled up. She didn't move and couldn't think of anything other than watching the boy being taken away from his community and his heritage.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there before Nathaniel returned. He strode into the living room. When she turned her gaze toward him, his face grew grayer.

“What is it?” he asked. “Did she say something to you?”

She explained the short conversation before saying, “Chloe suggested her superiors would prefer Jacob being in a family with two parents who can help him try to overcome the pain he has suffered. We can't offer him that now unless...”

“It sounds as if you want me to ask you to be my wife.”

“I don't know what I'm saying, Nathaniel.” She surged to her feet. “All I know for sure is Jacob needs to stay here. He's begun to heal, and if he's taken away, he'll lose any progress he's made.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No.” Her eyes swam in tears. “I don't think I needed to. She looked dismayed when she found out we aren't married.”

“Esther, you're probably the best friend I've ever had. Now and when we were kids, but—”

“That's all we'll ever be.” Why did the words taste bitter? She'd told him many times friendship was what she wanted from him. She'd been lying. Not just to him, but to herself. Maybe not at the beginning when she first learned he'd come back to Paradise Springs, but as the days went on and she spent time with him and Jacob. Sometime, during those weeks in spite of her assertions, she'd begun to believe she and Nathaniel might be able to build a life together.

Then he'd kissed her...and her old fears of taking a risk had returned.

His broad hands framed her face and tilted it toward him so his gaze met hers. She saw his sorrow. Did he regret their agreement to be friends, too? Or was his grief focused on Jacob?

“I can't marry you, Esther. Not now.” His voice broke. “Not ever.”

She pulled away before her tears fell and betrayed her. “
Danki
for telling me that. You've made yourself really clear.”

“Esther, wait!” he called as she started to walk away. “I've got a
gut
reason for saying that. I should have told you this right from the beginning, but I was ashamed.”

“Of what? Most young men like to play the field, as you put it so tersely.”

“What?”

“I heard you and Micah and Daniel laughing at the wedding about how you weren't going to settle down.”

“Esther, look at me.”

She slowly faced him. “Don't tell me you didn't say that, because I heard you.”

“I'm sure you did. What you didn't hear were the words before those. Micah and I were teasing Daniel about his habits of bringing a different girl home from every event. I was repeating his words to him in jest.”

“If that's not the reason—”

“The truth is I may never be able to be a
daed
.” The resignation in his voice was vivid on his face. It was the expression of a man who had fought long and hard for a goal, but it was still beyond his reach, and it might be forever.

“I don't understand,” she whispered.

“After we left Paradise Springs, I came back the next summer.”

“I remember.” She did. That year she'd been too bold and told him she planned to marry him. How ironic that sounded now!

“I didn't return the next summer because I was ill.” He took a deep breath and said, “I had leukemia.”

“Cancer?” she choked out. “I never knew.”

“I know. My parents wanted to keep it quiet, even from our neighbors in Indiana. They sold off most of their farmland to pay the bills for my treatment.” He rubbed his hands together as if he didn't know what else to do with them. “They were horrified one of their children was weak enough to succumb to such a disease.”

“Weakness or strength has nothing to do with it.” She pulled his hands apart, folding one between hers. “You know that, don't you?”

“
I
do, but I don't think they've ever accepted the truth. They always believed they or I had done something wrong. Something to call the scourge down on me.” His mouth tightened into a straight line. “That's what they call it. The scourge.”

“I'm sorry.” She was beginning to understand his compassion for Jacob and why it went beyond the simple kindness of helping a
kind
who was alone in the world. He knew too well how it was to be different.

“I appreciate that, Esther.”

“You are all right now?”

“As
gut
as if I'd never had cancer. With chemotherapy and radiation, the
Englisch
doktors
saved my life from the disease. That's how they saw it. A disease that strikes indiscriminately, not a scourge sent to punish my family.” He sighed. “However, the
Englisch
doktors
warned me that the treatments probably had made it impossible for me ever to father a
boppli
.”

Tears flooding her eyes blurred his face, but she doubted she'd ever be able to erase his desolate expression from her memory.

“Oh, Nathaniel, I'm sorry. I know how you love
kinder
.” She pressed her hands over her heart. “Now you have to worry about losing Jacob. If you think it'll make a difference—”

“Don't say it, Esther. I won't do that to you. I won't ask you to take the risk. How many times have you told me you aren't the same person you were when we were little? That you like to consider all aspects of an issue before you make a decision, that you no longer leap before you look around you.”

“Nathaniel—”

“No, Esther, I'm sure of this. I've seen you with your scholars. You love
kinder
. You light up when they're around, whether at school or at home with your nieces and nephews. Or with Jacob who, despite his grumbling, appreciates the time you spend with him.”